


To You, Timelessly

by izvorposts



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Family History, Other, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:06:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21955603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/izvorposts/pseuds/izvorposts
Summary: An attempt to give some back stories and something nice for this Christmas in the SnK universe :)
Relationships: Hange Zoë/Levi
Comments: 1
Kudos: 26





	To You, Timelessly

_To You, Timelessly_

I

_Mo(u)rning_

The morning was neither too warm nor too cold, the air was crisp and the sun was shining. It caressed the tree branches, trying to find a way to shine through them. However, a strong wind blew at the cemetery as usual, making small, yellow flowers bend back and forth.

_No matter how warm it is, it’s always windy at cemeteries._

There was something peaceful about the whole setting. Two colors were predominant – green grass and trees, with small flowers here and there, and the light gray color of tombstones. It was quiet with no people around. The whistling of the wind was the only sound one could hear. 

Two people passed through the heavy iron gate, adorned with various shapes, and entered the cemetery, arms linked. The one on the right was an old, short and plump woman, with red cheeks people loved squeezing when she was a child. Her gray hair was pulled tightly in a bun. In a long brown skirt and a brown sweater, she looked like your average grandma; the other one was young, skinny and tall, their brown hair tied in a messy ponytail. It didn’t really look like a ponytail, it looked more like someone’s semi-successful attempt to stop their hair from getting in their face. They wore tight black pants, black leather boots, and a black jacket. Despite the fact that they were only in their thirties, there were quite a few lines on their face. The face looked tired, drained.

They walked slowly towards their goal, shuffling their feet along the narrow path made of bricks.

“Watch your step, Lyra, the bricks here are pretty uneven”, the younger one said, looking down.

“Hey, I’m not that old, I can still see!”, the older woman responded jokingly. 

“I know, I just…”, they started saying and suddenly went quiet. They let out a short laugh, having realized that Lyra was kidding. It was one of the things they loved about Lyra - she’d come up with something funny to say in every difficult situation.

If someone had heard them talk to each other, they’d quickly realize these two had a strong bond, resembling a parent-child one. Every word they said to one another was filled with love, and even when they didn’t speak, the way they looked at each other simply spelled out love. 

After a while the person in black stopped and pointed at a grave.

“We’re here”, they said.

Lyra was the first to approach the tombstone. She stood at its foot, looking at it, looking at the name carved in the stone, and finally bending down to leave the flowers she had brought.

“May he rest in peace”, she said almost inaudibly.

The tall, skinny one put their bouquet of purple and yellow chrysanthemums on the grave and sat on the little bench between two tombstones.

“It’s been years, and I miss him just the same”, they said, “And I can’t... I don’t...”

“I know. I know, Hange. It gets better. Never completely, and you never forget, but it does get better, I promise. I still miss your uncle, he was the love of my life, my world, and I thought I wouldn’t survive without him. But, here I am. Maybe I’m not complete anymore, maybe part of me died with him, but I am here.”

“Thank you for being here, Lyra. For being here for me.”

Lyra smiled, brushing her hand against Hange’s back. She didn’t know how she managed to smile, because her heart was breaking for Hange. She tried to fathom all the ways in which this situation was wrong. Hange was in their thirties, and didn’t deserve to spend the morning of their birthday here. They didn’t deserve the war and the carnage, blood, death. To Lyra, Hange was still a child and Hange knew that the version of themselves Lyra remembered and the version of who Hange had become were two different people. The essence, though, stayed the same. This was something Hange was yet to understand. Lyra knew it all along.

“I’ll wait on that bench over there, you just take your time, I know you want to be alone”, Lyra said quietly, her hand still on Hange’s back. Hange nodded in response and started rummaging around their bag looking for cigarettes. They weren’t a heavy smoker, but in these situations, they kept a pack in their bag. Hange lit one up, lifted their glasses on top of their head and stared at the tombstone. They looked absent and present at the same time, like people usually do at cemeteries.

_People’s eyes have an empty stare and their faces can’t be read, they are physically there, as present as they can be, but their minds keep wandering off, getting lost in the past, memories, and the most painful part of never again._

_II_

_Memories_

As Lyra sat on the bench, she looked at Hange and thought how, at the end of the day, we are all alone. She could be there for Hange and with Hange, but Hange was dealing with this by themselves. No one could understand them. People shared the same experiences, but those bits and pieces you missed most about a person, that was something no words could describe. How they made you feel when you saw them, or how they looked at you. How they sighed after a long day, the food they liked, the way they walked. A million little things that made you love them. And those big ones, those things that made a person _that person_ , things that planted them in your heart.

You can’t explain that to anyone, no one can. And in some strange way, Lyra was happy about it. When her husband had just died, she realized that she wanted to keep all of their memories, selfishly, to herself. She feared that if she talked about their moments too much, they would wear off, similarly to a sweater you wear nonstop. In time, it loses its original color and shape, and just becomes something different. So, she kept quiet about everything she missed about him. She didn’t know if Hange’s silence had the same roots or they just didn’t feel like sharing. Whatever it was, Lyra left them be.

“If only I could distract you now with a story or two, if I could only make this easier for you”, Lyra thought. But the times when Lyra could make things easier for Hange were long gone. And Lyra missed them.

Even though a number of their memories together were permeated with pain and sorrow, both of them remembered them with fondness.

The day Hange was born was one of the happiest days in Lyra’s life. Unfortunately, that was not the case with Hange’s parents, especially their mother.

On the day Lykko and Bella, Hange’s parents, brought Hange home from the hospital, Lyra, Lykko’s sister, was at their house waiting for the baby. Bella looked drained, which only contributed to her usual unkind personality. Lykko looked thrilled about being a father, but kept his priorities straight – the well-being of his wife was the most important.

It was a strange triangle they had going. Bella was in love with herself and wine. Lykko was in love with Bella. Neither was in love with Hange and Hange was in love with life.

Lyra was certain that Hange would change the lives of their parents, and she was right about that, Hange did change their lives, but for the worse, from their perspective.

Bella refused to breastfeed after Hange’s third month. She was too absorbed in her appearance and worried how her breasts would look if she breastfed for a year. Also, breastfeeding meant fewer to no glasses (bottles) of wine, and that was not a compromise Bella was willing to make. Lykko trusted Bella with every decision and never opposed her, for reasons only known to him. He was a calm and quiet man most of the time and would only turn into a raging beast if Bella was unhappy. He never let anything disturb or annoy her and did everything in his power to make his wife’s life as comfortable as possible.

When Hange was five, they got pneumonia and were taken to the hospital. Bella had to be there with them the entire time, and Lykko and Lyra visited whenever they could – Lykko was, without exception, Bella’s visitor, while Lyra came to see Hange.

During their childhood, Hange was skinny and rarely had a healthy appetite, so when Lyra and Lykko came for a visit one day, it came as a surprise that Hange asked Lyra to bring scrambled eggs next time they visited. Lyra was amused by the dish Hange craved – something as simple as scrambled eggs could only occur to someone modest. A couple of years later, when Hange was an elementary school student and their teacher told the class to write an essay about their special day, Hange wrote about the day at the hospital when their auntie brought the famous scrambled eggs. Hange always excelled at writing and when the essay was voted one of the best in the class, Hange excitedly ran home to tell their parents and Lyra about it. As soon as they started reading it, Lyra noticed a gray cloud hanging over Bella’s face. She knew that face too well and wished Hange would just stop reading, but it was far too late. As if word after word about Lyra and her cooking, about their time together and how much Hange loved her wasn’t enough, there was a surprise waiting for everyone in the conclusion:

“I will never forget the scrambled eggs auntie brought and I will also never understand why she can’t be my mother.”

The seven-year old Hange was too honest for their own good and the essay, but the conclusion in particular, earned them one of the worst (but not the worst) beatings in life. Bella called them a little ungrateful bitch, the biggest mistake of her life and didn’t omit to say that if she could she would also have someone else for a child. The traces of her palms stayed on Hange’s cheeks for a few more hours, while they and Bella went for a walk, after Hange had calmed down. Lyra did her damnedest to explain to the kid why Bella got so angry, how there is only one mother we have and it’s always our mother who loves us most. Lyra was saying these words and not believing them herself, but she couldn’t come up with anything else.

Being nothing like her brother, Lyra was always pretty straightforward and honest, but she knew that confronting Bella about the incident would bring nothing good. Bella had been looking at the world through the bottom of the wine glass for way too long, she was too far gone and there was no way back. It was Bella who always had the upper hand and Lykko never objected to having no responsibilities other than caring for his wife and the family business founded a long time ago by his and Lyra’s father. Even though he was present during the beating that time, he never did anything. He kept his eyes closed and once Bella was done, he asked Hange to never hurt Bella like that again. Lyra wondered if they knew their child at all.

When Hange was 12, Lykko and Lyra’s cousin from out of town passed away and the two of them had to attend the funeral and take care of some family things, which meant that Hange was left alone with Bella for five or six days. Hange never told Lyra anything about those days, how they spent them, what they did, or if they did anything together. Lykko was certain, and even tried, multiple times, to assure Lyra that Bella and Hange would finally forge a bond once left alone (Lyra never quite figured out if he believed his own words, because if he did, he was more naïve than she thought), but the moment they returned and entered the house, his question about how it was got a silence-inducing answer from Bella:

“Why don’t you try spending six days alone with them and tell me how it was? Lyra, can you take Hange to your house for a few, days, I really need to rest, that child is a handful.”

Lyra thought that Hange could be described in various ways, but being a handful was never one of them. Even when everything was fine, when they were at Lyra’s, where they could be who they really were, they were always good, they’d help Lyra around the house, always finish their homework on time, never ask for anything, probably out of fear of being a burden, they would finish their meals in silence, they weren’t picky or spoiled. You could talk to them about anything and they would easily agree and make compromises.

The more time passed, the more Lyra was certain that Hange’s parents never really wanted a child. Not Hange in particular, but any child. They just did what was expected by others – they got married and had a kid. And this was never alright, but when Hange was still young, they didn’t really understand exactly what was going on. However, when they started growing up, the cruel words started sinking in:

“Will someone make them shut up?” “You’re boring me! I don’t give a shit about what you did at school!” “You’re ugly, look at yourself with those glasses, no wonder no one wants to be your friend except your precious auntie!” 

It seemed like insulting her own kid was Bella’s favorite pastime. There was a narrow spectrum of tones Bella used with Hange – sarcastic, aggressive and distant. The last one was saved for good days only, the first two for most days.

Lyra clearly remembered how talkative Hange was around their parents when they were younger. They loved talking and sharing all the new things they had learned. Having grown up around Lyra, who was particularly fond of books, Hange picked up the habit. While they were too young to read, they loved being read to. Every time they slept at Lyra’s, they’d take a bath, go to bed and wait for Lyra to come into the bedroom holding one of the books she’d read. The next day or a few days later, Hange would go home and tell their parents about the stories. Well, they’d go home and attempt to tell their parents about the stories. Lykko felt sorry for his child from time to time, so he’d sneak in Hange’s room and ask them to, very briefly, tell him one story or about something new they had learned. Bella, on the other hand, showed no interest in listening to her child. Sometimes she’d dismiss them and send them to their room, other times she’d just pay no attention at all.

As Hange was growing up, their desire to share anything with their parents started dying out. They’d come home from school, go straight to their room, finish their homework and then they’d proceed to do chores. They kept talking to the minimum and spoke very rarely. Bella was relieved and claimed that this was Hange’s personality from the start. Lykko was worried because of the change, but not worried enough to do anything about it. He noticed that the kid had gone from being an open book and the definition of happiness to a clammed up person who always tried to keep to themselves and despite the fact that he was aware the change happened because of the way Hange was treated, he kept saying that they were just growing up and becoming more serious. Lyra saw through the behavior, Hange was trying to become invisible, to disappear.

 _When we are invisible, we don’t bother anyone. Invisible people don’t have desires. Invisible people don’t take up any space. The Invisibles are perfect to have around, helpful to the core and satisfied with little to no attention. Once the mechanism is perfected, their life becomes a well-rehearsed dance. The Invisibles know when to go away, they know when to show up, they master the technique of reading people and doing exactly what those people want. Also, the more invisible the Invisibles are, the more light there is to shine on others craving to be in the spotlight._

One day Hange came to Lyra’s after school for lunch. They were having soup and Hange struggled to keep their hair out of their bowl. Lyra offered them a hairpin and Hange tied their hair, freeing the face. When they finished eating, they got up to clear the table. Passing by the kitchen window Hange saw their own reflection and quickly removed the hairpin from their hair, letting it cover the face again. Lyra knew better than to ask Hange what that was about, because it was clear. She had previously thought how brave Hange was for never talking about all the insults flying off Bella’s forked tongue, for never saying anything bad about Bella, but when she witnessed Hange’s reaction to their own reflection, she realized that is wasn’t out of courage, pride, or shame, it was because Hange themselves believed it. Maybe they weren’t aware of it, but they believed it, all those horrid things Bella said about them.

When Lyra would visit them, she would closely observe Hange’s behavior. They looked like a human being made of clay, clay that was still wet, that could easily be molded into any shape a situation would require. They spoke when they were spoken to. They didn’t eat too little, but they didn’t eat a lot either. As soon as everyone was done eating, they’d clear the table and wash the dishes. They'd offer coffee before anyone would remember to ask. Hange’s grades were stellar, but they kept quiet about it. They skipped from one role to another in a matter of seconds, but carefully; they calculated Bella’s moves in advance. They wouldn’t let Bella have the upper hand, and they’d do things even before it would occur to Bella to tell them to or not to do them. Hange was everything – a maid, a student, a child, a listener when Lykko wasn’t home, a drink delivery person, everything. They had learned how to play the vicious game of mimicry, something that would hold them hostage for years. 

On the other hand, when it was just Hange and Lyra, Hange was who they always were. They’d set their sense of humor free and the things they’d say made Lyra cry with laughter. Hange was the same with their friends. The funny friend, the helpful friend, the smart friend. They were their teachers’ favorite student. Everyone was in love with Hange. Except the people they needed most.

And it didn’t come as a surprise that so many people loved Hange. Why wouldn’t they? Hange always agreed to everything, even if they didn’t feel like it. Hange never said no to anyone. Hange never wanted anything. Whenever Lyra ran into Hange on their way to or from school, the child was always surrounded by other kids. Hange would let their classmates copy their homework, they’d stay after school to explain something, a definition of a person you’d want to have around.

When Hange needed help, it was a little different. There was one friend who was there for Hange, but others easily came up with explanations why they couldn’t do something. And it wasn’t because they were bad kids, it was because they knew Hange wouldn’t be angry or offended, so saying no to them was always easy. Also, if you say _no_ to someone a decent number of times, they’re bound to stop asking you.

Lyra asked Hange if this bothered them, and Hange would think of the wildest excuses for their friends. After a while, there was no need for excuses anymore, Hange simply stopped asking for things and kept helping everyone around them like it was a normal thing to do.

“You don’t have to try so hard, honey”, Lyra would tell her. “People will either like you or they won’t, regardless of how many things you do for them. If they will stop being your friends because you don’t always let them copy your homework, screw them! If they’ll stop being your friends because you can’t stay after school every day to explain stuff to them, screw them even more! Hange, people should love you because of you, not because of the things you do for them, you know?”

And Hange would nod and nod and promise that they’d change. And Lyra would nod and nod and know that it was in vain. Hange’s need to be loved and liked was insatiable. Their willingness to be there for everyone, literally everyone who’d ask, verged on stupidity. Lyra often wondered if Hange realized how many people took advantage of them. Lyra even struggled to understand Hange’s willingness to be there for Bella who was, after all, their mother, their own flesh and blood, but being there for kids who wouldn’t even say hello to them in the street… Why?

But these were rhetorical questions, the answer was obvious to Lyra, of course – _the road to hell is paved with childhood memories_. And she hated her brother and Bella for it. She hated them for seeing how much Hange tried to be the ideal kid, to stay out of the way, to never, literally never, ask for anything, hoping that this behavior would earn them love and acceptance. It didn’t happen. And Lyra wondered how long it would take Hange to see that all their effort was in vain, that their parents would never love or want them. Hange feared abandonment and rejection more than anything, but Lyra knew that one day soon the game would end and she hoped with all her might that Hange would come out as the winner. What would become of Hange later and whether they’d ever dismiss and forget the pattern of “as long as you don’t want anything, people won’t abandon you and if you do everything people ask you to, they’d love you” was to be seen, but Lyra knew Hange had it in them. And it came a lot sooner than Lyra thought.

III

_Freedom_

While Hange was in their room reading, they heard a loud thud from the bathroom. The sound was all too familiar, and they knew that it was Bella who had tripped over something or just passed out because she was drunk. At this point, Hange didn’t even panic or feel scared for their mother’s well-being. This was a ritual they were both used to, a game they had been playing for years, so they took their time to get out of their room and go to the bathroom to help Bella.

As expected, Bella was flat on her back, so Hange sat on the bathroom floor and put their mother’s head on their lap. On a very strange level, Hange enjoyed these encounters where Bella was unconscious. They could talk to her without being interrupted or belittled. They started running their fingers through Bella’s thick, jet-black hair, with gentleness you would expect from someone who had a loving relationship with their mother. Hange caressed Bella’s cheeks with their fingertips and as they stared at Bella’s face, they got lost in their own thoughts.

There were so many “you have to’s” and “you must not’s” in this very short life of theirs. Everything seemed to have been planned out for them, or at least that’s how Lykko and Bella spoke about Hange’s life. Since they were a well-off family, Lykko proudly spoke about how neither his wife nor his child would ever have to work. He always said how good it was that they’d have Hange around when they got old.

“Even my old age won’t feel like a burden, because my girl will be around to give me a glass of water. After everything we’ve done for you, that’s only fair.”

Statements like this made Hange wonder if that was the right reason to have kids. To have someone bring you a glass of water when you get old? Really? They already felt like a servant, having to cook, clean, literally babysit Bella and whatnot.

“Why did you have me, Bella?” Hange asked, knowing that Bella couldn’t hear them. They knew that there would be no response, which was probably why they dared ask the question.

As the bathroom floor tiles became warmer under Hange and as their legs grew numb from sitting in the same position with Bella’s head in their lap, Hange realized that their heart started beating faster, their breaths got more intense and they started feeling extremely restless. A prisoner in their own life. How was this their life, _their_ life if all the decisions had been made for them?

“If everything is arranged in advance, how can we talk about destiny? If there are walls everywhere, the real ones, the three walls made of stone that were around them, and the invisible walls put up around their life, how can we talk about freedom?” Hange thought about all the characters from the books they had read, the characters that made decisions for themselves, the characters who didn’t have a script written out for them from the moment they were born… Was it all fiction? Was it a lie? Was that not how life worked? Even Hange’s friends talked about their desires for the future, _their_ desires. Yet, Hange’s path seemed to have been set in stone. The path of their life had been planned out.

A grim thought crossed their mind. A thought that made their heart race even more. A thought that made breathing difficult, as if an elephant was sitting on their chest. Was this it? Was this… Were they supposed to wait for their parents’ deaths to start living? They felt like screaming until there was no more voice to let out. The more they tried to take deep breaths to calm down, the more the stench of alcohol evaporating from Bella’s skin filled their nostrils. Hange felt helpless, robbed, imprisoned in every sense and on every level. Their first instinct was to slap Bella until they ran out of strength, but their strong sense of justice wouldn’t let them.

_You can’t slap the living daylights out of someone unconscious, that would be wrong._

They put the palms of their hands under Bella’s head, freeing their legs and lowering Bella’s head on the tiles. Saliva dripped down from the corners of Bella’s half-opened mouth, as Hange got up and went to their room. They took a backpack and put the necessities in it, knowing that they would lose their mind completely if they stayed in that house any longer. Their heartbeat hadn’t slowed down and breathing was still as difficult as before. They felt the blue shirt they were wearing stick to their skin as they were sweating profusely.

“Run!” a voice in their head said, and Hange didn’t think twice whether to listen to it. So they ran with the backpack on their back, they ran out of the house and down the street, they turned left and kept running. They ran as if a monster was chasing them, they ran from the chains of their parents’ “love”, they ran and ran until they reached the wall and there was nowhere to run to anymore. With their back bent forward and their palms on their knees, Hange threw up as the realization of what they had done started sinking in. Falling to the ground, they were flooded with questions of where to go and what to do and answers were nowhere to be found. They were certain about two things – they’d never go back to that house again, and they wouldn’t go to Lyra’s. Lyra was already the not favorite family member, and Hange knew that going to Lyra’s would only make matters worse.

However, life is a strange friend and has its ways of arranging things just when we think that everything, including ourselves, is hopeless.

“Hey, kiddo, what the heck happened to you?”

Hange looked up and saw a tall, blond man, with thick eyebrows and piercing blue eyes. He was wearing a uniform with white and blue Wings of Freedom insignia.

“I… I don’t know.”, Hange responded.

“ _You_ don’t know what happened to _you_?”, he said, half amused, half worried.

“That’s right.”

“You hungry, thirsty?”, he asked gently.

Hange nodded. He extended his hand to help them up from the ground and used the opportunity to introduce himself.

“Erwin Smith, Commander of the Survey Corps, pleased to meet you.”

“Hange Zoë… Uhm… fugitive.”, they said, forcing a smile.

“Come on, Hange Zoë, fugitive, I’ll take you to our barracks, there isn’t much food, but you won’t starve, I promise you that.”

Without a second thought Hange followed the man. There was something about him that made you trust him with your life from the get go. Was it the tone of his voice, his eyes or the general attitude, they couldn’t tell, but there was something about him that made Hange feel safe, or rescued or found or liberated.

After a long walk, they reached the military barracks swarming with soldiers, weapons and equipment.

Hange ate and ate like they had never eaten before. The boiled potatoes with some bread tasted like the most delicious food they had ever had. As they ate, they listened to Erwin talk about the Survey Corps, their main duties, anything and everything that was allowed to be shared with a civilian. Once Hange was done eating, Erwin said:

“You can spend the night here, I believe we have a few empty beds, and from tomorrow you’re on your own. Sorry, kiddo, but things have been kind of crazy around here lately, I would like to invite you to stay, but it won’t be possible.”

“Mr. Commander Smith,” Hange stuttered, “Recruit me, take me, make me a soldier. I’m smart, I learn insanely fast and I excelled at science at school. I want to fight for freedom, too. Hell, I have just come out of a battle for my own freedom. I want to go out the walls. Take me. Please. Uhm… And, also, I… I’ve got nowhere else to go.”

Although reluctant at first, Erwin agreed to recruit the young Hange and see what the decision would turn into. He, naturally, couldn’t know that Hange would soon become one of his most valued soldiers, their friend, and a person to rely on in every situation. He didn’t know that Hange would make groundbreaking discoveries about the titans and that they would sacrifice their physical and mental well-being fighting for freedom.

Hange, on the other hand didn’t know that Erwin would feel more like their father than Lykko ever did, that he was a man easy to trust and that he was one of the bravest people they’d ever meet. They didn’t know that Erwin would prove to be the best teacher, and despite his rank and the fact that he was older than Hange, also a great student, always willing to learn and listen. Erwin also helped Hange be who they really were. With him and the other soldiers, not all, but most of them, they started “thawing” and stopped pretending to be someone they weren’t. They realized that there were people interested in listening about their discoveries and research. Of course, Hange didn’t relax entirely and mostly spoke only about their work, but it was progress, a step forward.

As he took them to the barracks where the soldiers slept, one MP shouted:

“Adopting strays again, are we, Smith? This isn’t an orphanage, you know!”

“You know me, Sannes, I’m a gambler”, Erwin said calmly. “We should all do what we are good at, so I suggest you go and mind your own business.”

That night Hange lay on their back for hours wondering what had happened to them. Less than 24 hours ago they were caressing their mother’s cheeks and now they were in the army and their training would start the next day. They felt bad about abandoning Lyra, but knew they’d meet again.

“It’s better like this, she’s better off not knowing where I am.”, Hange thought and drifted off.

IV

 _The Teahouse_

A bell in the distance chimed signifying noon and the crisp air was long gone. The day had become pleasantly warm, so warm, in fact, that Hange had to take their jacket off. The wind at the cemetery turned into a gentle breeze. 

They closed their eyes and whispered almost inaudibly, “I miss you so much. Thank you for being my savior.” The breeze blew their words off their lips and sent them to get tangled in the tree branches. They sniffled and coughed to clear their throat. Their voice sounded nasal from crying. 

They squinted and almost laughed when the absurdity of the situation dawned on them. Who were they talking to? A stone? His body wasn’t even there, it was just a tombstone, a memorial. No one knew where exactly his body was, which wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, most of their comrades’ bodies had never been recovered, and this cemetery, most of it at least, was nothing more than a formality.

As they looked at the letters carved in the stone, they remembered his voice, they could hear it so clearly in their mind, every word the man from their memory uttered fell on their heart like lead, prompting them to jerk another cigarette with their trembling hand out of the bag. They lit it and watched the tombstone through the smoke.

That’s what it all becomes eventually, smoke. Every memory is there, solid at first, almost a fact, and you think you’ll never forget it, the colors, sounds, smells, words, laughter, but memory is a funny thing. They wondered why no one told them it would all fade away one day. Because, when Hange lived those moments, the ones that would one day become memories, they could swear that they would never fade away. But they did. Well, some of them at least.

The memories that were the most persistent were the heavy and dark ones, colored with blood and screams, horrors of the things they really wanted to forget. Not repress, they wouldn’t want to run the risk of it all just resurfacing one day, they wanted to have no recollection of it, and they wanted it to stay like that. But those were the persistent ones, the ones that wouldn’t leave them alone no matter what. Even when they were asleep, the memories were there, and way too often.

They put out the cigarette and turned around. Lyra was behind them, her eyes, too, glinting from tears. She took a few steps forward and put her hands on Hange’s shoulders. Moving her thumbs up and down, she didn’t utter a word. She knew there was nothing she could say to make it better, so she just decided to be there. After a few minutes, Hange got up from the bench. Lyra spread her arms and held Hange like she used to do when Hange was just a kid. It was a long hug, full of warmth and reassurance. Lyra was miserable because she couldn’t do anything more for Hange, but Hange appreciated these few minutes in Lyra’s arms regardless.

They walked slowly and quietly up the cobblestone road until they reached a one-story house. The house was made of wood and a rose bush was planted in front of it. There was a sign that said “Kuchel’s” above the door. They entered it and a smiling woman, around Lyra’s age, greeted them cheerfully.

The teahouse itself was small, with five dark-brown wooden tables, each surrounded by four dark-brown wooden chairs. There was a vase with some flowers on every table and there were paintings on the walls. It was empty and peaceful. At the end of the room, there was a small counter posing as a “barrier” between the dining room and the kitchen. The kitchen was also small and spotless. There was a sink, a gas stove, utensils, pots and pans, tea sets, and everything else you’d find in any kitchen.

“Hello, hello! Hange, love, happy birthday!”, the woman squeaked as she rushed to approach them. She hugged Hange and held them tightly for a while, as if incapable of finding proper words for Hange’s birthday.

“Thank you, Gran, thanks so much”, Hange replied with an honest, wide smile on their face.

Gran, or Cannei, which was her real name, but no one used it at the teahouse, was a woman in her seventies, with very long, braided, gray hair, she was tall and slender and had movements of a much younger person. She was energetic and always on the go, her brown eyes always looking for something new to do, and today was not an exception.

“It’s not your birthday every day, dear, come on in, both of you, take a seat and I’ll make you some coffee. We’ll have lunch later. And there may be a cake waiting for you. Your favorite.”

Hange was touched beyond words by everything Gran had said, so they and Lyra proceeded to Hange’s usual table, sat down and waited. 

“It’s always easier when there are people who love you, Hange, and you seem to really be loved”, Lyra told them and put her hand on theirs. Hange nodded in response and again felt a sharp pain in their throat. This time they felt like crying, but with happiness, and it was such a nice change.

Cannei quickly returned with a big jug of coffee and three cups. She placed them on the table, poured coffee to each of them and sat down.

“How are you spending your birthday, what have you been up to since the morning?”, Cannei asked.

“Well, we were at the cemetery just now-“, Hange started saying when a huge Eldian shepherd stormed into the teahouse, jumped on Hange and started licking their face. “Smith, my goodest boy, where have you been?”, Hange exclaimed as they ran their hands over the dog’s yellowish-black head and his tall, pointed ears, long, square-cut muzzle and squeezed him, while his wagging tail fanned all three of them, threatening to knock over one or two cups off the table. 

“The damn dog followed me again, you trained him for shit”, a short muscular man with short black hair and gray eyes said looking at Hange, as he leaned against the door of the teahouse.

“That’s what dogs usually do, Levi, when you whistle, call their name and show them their leash, which was precisely what you did this morning”, Cannei said, smiling.

“You know, Gran, you are one back-stabbing Gran. The dog is still trained for shit, Four-eyes.”, the man responded gently.

“Oh, for the love of God, Levi, you and your filthy mouth! It’s Hange’s birthday, can’t you-”, Cannei started saying, but got interrupted by Hange.

“Yeah, Levi, can’t you get it already? It’s Three-eyes!”, they said through laughter, pointing at their eyepatch and glasses.

After hearing Hange make the joke and after hearing their voice loud and clear and not quiet and interrupted by occasional sobs, Lyra lowered her head to hide the tears. She was on the verge of getting up and hugging that man and saying “Thank you, thank you for making Hange so happy, thank you for shielding and loving them”. Levi, however, didn’t really seem like a person who’d react well to a hug, so she kept sitting.

“I saw you two at the cemetery a while ago, but you seemed to be having a moment, so I didn’t want to interrupt.” Levi said as he approached the table. “What’s up with Erwin? He still quiet?”

“Levi, I’mma smack you on that mouth of yours!”, Cannei said seriously.

“Relax, Cannei,” Hange told her, and continued: “Erwin is still quiet, still dead and still taller than you.”

“You’re impossible, both of you”, Lyra said, waving her head left and right.

“Fuck you, Three-eyes.”, Levi retorted.

“Fuck you, too, One-eye!”, Hange said, this time pointing at Levi’s eyepatch. 

They looked at each other and that was enough, they were both in fits of laughter in a matter of seconds. Levi didn’t laugh often, but when he did, it was the most infectious laughter you could hear and Hange loved it. Hange sometimes thought they were funny around him only to hear him laugh.

Cannei got up and Lyra followed her to the kitchen, wanting to leave the two alone for a bit.

“Hange… Happy birthday”, Levi said and Hange felt goosebumps all over their body. There was something about the way he said their name that made them feel… They didn’t know how to describe it, was it the flatness and the length of the sound /a/ in _Hange_ , or the tone of his voice, or how calmly he usually said it, they didn’t know, they just knew that they loved their name when it was said by him. He leaned towards Hange and planted a small, tender kiss on the tip of their nose.

V

_The Brothel  
_

While Levi and Hange talked at the table, Cannei and Lyra were finishing lunch for the four of them.

“They both are equally deranged with those morbid jokes, Cannei. I was worried at first, but I see that’s the way they function. And, you know what, they may be right. It might be a better, healthier way to cope with all the atrocities they’ve witnessed. And with losing Erwin… After all, he was their best friend.”, Lyra said.

Cannei nodded in agreement.

“Levi’s always been impossible, you know. I remember him from the brothel when he was still a kid. When Kuchel got pregnant with one of the clients, we all thought she was crazy for wanting to keep the baby. She was, in a way, something between my sister and my best friend and I tried, now I’m ashamed of it, I tried to talk her into terminating the pregnancy. When you’re a prostitute, it’s a vicious cycle and there is no way out. No one becomes a prostitute because they want to. The owner, Rocko, used to give us money with which we alone could barely survive. Just the idea of having a baby seemed insane, let alone really having one. But she was stubborn and persistent. He gets that from her. I sometimes look at his face, his eyes in particular, and I see Kuchel.

The brothel where Kuchel and I lived and worked was in the Underground. Each woman had a room to herself, and each room was beautifully decorated with moldy walls, and equipped with a bed and a nightstand. In the corner of every room there was a small sink, which was useless on most days, because there was no water.

Rocko recruited the girls easily. His charming smile and empty promises about money and good life sounded too good to be true, but when you’re a desperate woman in the Underground, you don’t question things much. That’s how he got me to work for him, and that’s how he got Kuchel.

I was attractive, all modesty aside, and I was popular with customers, but Kuchel was breathtakingly beautiful, and men queued up to be with her. Rocko was no exception. He was young at the time, I believe the three of us were around the same age, and as soon as you laid eyes on him, you could see that he was a bad man, as bad as they get. Handsome, yes, but rotten. Kuchel got slapped on her face more than once by him, for talking back or being rude to clients. I sometimes even thought he’d kick her out, but he was smarter than that. She brought him lots of money, and silencing her with his fists was a lot more convenient than losing her entirely. So he didn’t say anything when she got pregnant and decided to keep the kid. Why lose a hen that lays golden eggs? Now that I think about it, we were mere objects to Rocko.

And despite the fact that I never had kids of my own, I understood Kuchel when I saw Levi. Wrapped in a semi-clean blanket, he looked like a tiny loaf of bread and she held him and kissed his head and he’d make baby sounds and the two of them just looked like they were meant to be, like partners in life, like the best combination.

As he was growing up, she spent every second she could with him. She was well-aware of where he was being raised and went out of her way to make his life as “normal” as possible. She talked to him all the time, she told him stories, and even made a secret deal with one of her clients to get paid in children’s books in return for extra services. She never told me what the services entailed and I’m grateful for that.

Kuchel loved art and could draw well, so she used to draw for him, she’d draw the toys she was never able to buy for him, she’d draw places the two of them would one day get to see together, the places from her imagination, we didn’t know about any other world than the Underground. She drew different worlds just to make him understand that the life at the brothel was not everything that existed, that one day, he should go above the ground and explore. He got that from her, too. The talent for painting, vivid imagination and curiosity. 

And Levi, even as a kid, was extremely perceptive. Kuchel always tried to send him outside when there was a client in her room, to protect him from seeing what his mother’s job was, but he knew. He knew in spite of all her efforts. Also, sending him outside in winter was impossible, he would have frozen, so against her will, he, at a very young age, witnessed countless men forcing themselves upon his mother. There was never anything childlike about Levi. His gray eyes and the piercing stare have been his signature from the day he was born and more than once Kuchel’s clients made comments on how her kid made them feel uncomfortable just by looking at them. To me and Kuchel this was hilarious, so maybe that’s where he gets his weird sense of humor.

To me, however, and the other women, he was a pet - we loved Levi and he loved us. For some reason he started calling me Gran as soon as he learned how to talk. Kuchel felt bad about it at first, I was young, I was his mother’s age for Pete’s sake, but he wouldn’t stop. It’s been Gran from day one. And I got used to it, and Kuchel got used to it, and we’d laugh about that, too.

But, did he have dark moments? Oh, yes. Don’t even make me start. Once, a particularly difficult client was with Kuchel, we all hated him and prayed he wouldn’t pick us. He had insane requests, and if you dared deny him anything, he’d get physically violent. Like I said, Kuchel didn’t exactly have a lovely personality, unless she was with me or Levi, and she told the customer to go where the sun don’t shine. He punched her so hard she fell off the bed and hit her head against the stone floor, which earned her a concussion and a deep cut on the back of her head. If I’m not mistaken, Levi was… Maybe seven at the time, maybe. It’s difficult to know exactly because it was a long time ago, and due to the conditions at the brothel he always was smaller than the kids his age were supposed to be. Anyway, Levi waited for the man to leave and snuck out after him. He snatched a small cake from a local vendor, which was something he used to do often, only to bring the cakes to Kuchel and me… Oh, how many times the boy got in trouble… Anyway, he snatched the cake and planted a shard of glass inside it. He ran after the man, gave him the cake and apologized for his mother’s behavior. When he wanted to, he could look like an angel, I swear to God. The guy, of course, bought the whole act and greedily devoured the cake, the shard of glass did its thing and the last thing we heard was that he bled out in the middle of the street. Served him right.”

“Served him right”, Lyra agreed wholeheartedly, despite feeling slightly nauseous from the very detailed story about the brothel. Cannei’s life and Lyra’s life were, after all, as different as could be.

“Ever since Kuchel’s fall and the wound on her head that didn’t heal properly, her health started deteriorating. She spiked a fever, the wound got infected, and she started losing her appetite. Levi kept going out, stealing food and water for her, but to no avail. She couldn’t eat and she also stopped drinking water after a while. She needed a doctor, and Rocko, even though he could have found one, didn’t. He kept saying she was strong and that she’d get better, but no one believed it, not even Levi. When she passed away I came in and told Levi we’d have to take her body out. I’ll never forget his face when he said ‘Don’t touch her’, gritting his teeth. It was a face of an adult, an empty face with nothing left to lose. His voice was different and there was no spark in his eyes. I kept coming in and leaving him as much food as I could find, only to realize he wouldn’t touch it. He wouldn’t talk to me and he would not leave his mother’s side. Days, maybe even weeks later I saw him get taken away by a tall, skinny man. A Kenny Ackerman, his uncle, I later learned. And after that day I was certain I would never see him again.”

“But?”, Lyra asked curiously. Cannei was introduced to Lyra as Levi’s friend, and Hange never thought it was up to them to share the story. Cannei and Levi’s story was way too personal to be spread around, so Hange was discreet. Levi, on the other hand didn’t like talking about himself, and this seemed like a perfect opportunity to get to know Levi better and find out how he and Cannei ended up together again.

“Rocko kept me at the brothel in spite of my age. He kept me there as a maid, and I’ll never find out why. I find it impossible to believe that he found it in his heart to feel sorry for me and not kick me out in the street, because that’s what he did with the other women once they got “too old” to be attractive. Whatever that meant.

And then, what, a little less than a year ago, when the madness above the ground ended, I was about my usual business around the brothel and this man in a black suit, white ascot and black dress shoes walks in. It didn’t take me more than a second to recognize him, his eyes, well, eye, was a dead giveaway. Although I did think, also for a second, that I must have lost my mind. He was calm, he walked slowly, he approached me and kissed me on the cheek. ‘Good to see you again, Gran. Not much has changed in this hellhole. Let me get you outta here, alright?”, he said it like it was the most common thing to do. When I asked about Rocko, Levi just said that “Rocko was taken care of”. I didn’t question his invitation, not for a moment. I packed the few things I had and followed him. He rounded the other girls, too, gave each a substantial amount of money and told them to go above the ground and start living a new life. They started having reading and writing and just basic school stuff lessons with Hange here at the teahouse and just recently left to live in the neighboring city. They occasionally visit and always bring small gifts to Levi and Hange. They’re endlessly grateful. He literally saved their lives. He told them he’d give them anything they needed, under one condition – never to tell anyone it was him who saved them. I don’t think I have ever met anyone as selfless as he is.

Also, from what I hear, no one knew that both he and Hange set their military severance pay aside. His pay enabled him to start this place and to give the girls some money. Levi is a man of few desires and Hange tells me he had been, for a long time, talking about having his own teahouse and just living peacefully. He offered me the money as well, telling me that I didn’t have to be here or work here. Unbelievable how he never imposed on anyone’s freedom, always telling everyone that they have a choice. And Hange is the same.”

“They had to fight tooth and nail for their own freedom, they know how to appreciate it.”, Lyra said.

“True. However, I chose to stay here. He’s like family to me, and I’m the same to him, so…”, Cannei said and her voice broke off. “I know this is your first time in our town, your first visit to Hange and I’m sorry if all of this has been too overwhelming.”

“God, no, no. Not at all. I also thought I lost Hange when they ran away from home. Hell, I didn’t even know where they were or if I’d ever see them again. So, I think both you and I, Cannei, got the best gifts, our kids, so to speak, came back.”

VI

 _Stay_

An hour or so later, the four of them were together at the table getting ready to eat and Levi had closed the teahouse for the day, so that they could spend it peacefully.

All the courses of the meal consisted of Hange’s favorite food, because, after all, it was their day. Needless to say, the first course was Lyra’s scrambled eggs with a little candle on top.

“Levi, what’s with you and keeping your hand on your lap? Both arms on the table, Levi, manners.”, Cannei said and instantly everyone looked at Levi.

“It… It’s… “

“Levi,” Lyra, who saw through the reason, said gently, “Don’t hide it, it’s a testimony of what you’ve been through, it’s proof of your courage and selflessness, you fought, you fought not for your freedom, you fought for the freedom of humanity, nothing to be ashamed of, on the contrary.”

As much as he hated being the center of attention, he couldn’t help feeling touched by Lyra’s comment and he put his right hand, missing the index and the middle fingers, on the table.

“We are all scarred, some more, some less, some on the inside, and some on the outside. Those especially ‘lucky’ are scarred both in and out. And it’s who we are. If someone doesn’t like it, they can go fuck themselves.”, Lyra finished her thought. 

“And then _my_ mouth is filthy”, Levi said and Lyra laughed.

It was Levi who brought the Marquise cake out to the table and Hange blew out the candles. It was also Levi who had baked it, tried to keep it a secret, but Cannei blew his cover. Again. Hange would have known regardless, he’d made it for them a few times before, but somehow everyone seemed to enjoy this game of him pretending not to care, them taking the mickey out of him, and so on.

“We should-”, Levi started saying, but Hange finished the sentence for him.

“… Have some coffee or tea”.

They looked at one another and smiled. They both loved when this happened, when they were both literally on the same page and it showed. Hange started getting up, but Levi gently placed the palm of his hand on their shoulder and whispered:

“I’ll do it, you just relax.”

As he disappeared in the kitchen, Lyra couldn’t help but say:

“He really, really loves you.” And she was right. It was so obvious. The way he talked to them, the way he looked at them and how he made them feel. When they were with Levi, Hange knew they were safe, they knew that nothing bad could ever happen to them. And most importantly, the way they loved one another was pure.

“He really does”, Cannei agreed. “Which brings me to a question. How did the two of you start?”

“They begged me to be with them!”, Levi shouted from the kitchen. “It was pretty sad, actually. Pathetic even! I felt sorry for them and here we are. End of story.”

“Can we have the real version now?”, Cannei rolled her eyes and asked through a smile. 

“I’ll be having my tea upstairs.”, Levi said as he put the three cups of coffee from the tray on the table and picked up his teacup placing the tips of his fingers around its edge. “By the way,” he said as he was leaving, “are you staying over tonight?” he said first looking at Hange, and then at Lyra. “There’s a spare room for you, Lyra.”

“I would like to.”, Hange said, grinning, and Levi nodded, through a barely visible smile and proceeded up to his room.

“Then we are.”, Lyra added. “And now Cannei and I would like to hear your story.”

When Levi had first joined the Survey Corps, Hange didn’t really know what to make of him. Brave, determined, quiet, often rude and blunt, he was as unapproachable as people get, unlike Hange, who immediately tried to make some kind of contact with him, but failed. However, as time went by, they started talking to each other and developed a professional relationship with mutual respect. Even though he often made comments about how Hange’s long-winded explanations about the titans bored him out of his mind, Hange knew he respected both them and their expertise, and the fact that they had been in the Survey Corps longer than he was.

Late one afternoon Hange was going back to their room and ran into Levi in the hallway.

“Hey!”, Hange greeted him cheerfully as always.

“Black tea.”, he responded in a flat tone.

“Sorry?”

“Black tea, do you want some black tea?”, he said impatiently. “Aren’t you supposed to be smart and shit?”, he snickered.

Accustomed to his unkind remarks, Hange smiled and said how they were more of a coffee person.

“Well, fuck.”, Levi said.

“You can have tea and I’ll have coffee. Your room or mine?”, Hange said this well-aware of the fact that he wasn’t clear about whether he wanted to have tea _with them_ or just offered them some, but provoking him always seemed fun.

“Who the fuck said I wanted to have tea with you, I was just-”

“Your room it is then. Want me to make tea for you?”, they said this not knowing where they found the guts to be this intrusive with the man who never let anyone close to him.

“I’ll make it myself, you’ll just fuck it up. But I’m not making you coffee. Be in my room in 30 minutes. Don’t be late.”

“I know how to make tea, you know? It’s not neuroscience! And even if it were, I’d probably rock it anyway! Cuz I’m smart and shit!”, Hange shouted down the corridor and more to Levi’s back as he had already started walking briskly towards the kitchen.

“Pffffffft”, was the only response that came back from him and it made them laugh.

His room was so tidy it made Hange feel slightly uncomfortable. They had never been there before and were stunned by the collection of art books he had on one shelf. A gorgeous, white tea set was on another shelf, while three sharpened pencils rested on the desk along with some drawing paper.

“Can I see some of your drawings?”, Hange asked, surprised at his hobby.

“Sure.”, he said, and Hange’s jaw almost dropped to the floor. “Over my dead body.”

“That’s more like it.”, Hange muttered to themselves. 

They spent a good 15 minutes in complete silence and Hange started wondering whether this had been a good idea. The silence was uncomfortable and if someone was looking at them, they’d see two adults behaving like shy teenagers.

“So… You. Like. Art.”, Hange said, knowing that they were stating the obvious, but it was a desperate attempt to break the awkward silence. However, they didn’t know how passionate Levi actually was about art.

He jumped to his feet and grabbed the first in the row of books on art history. He placed his teacup on the coffee table and for a second thought whether to sit on the couch where Hange was or across from them.

“Move over,” he almost ordered them and sat down beside them.

Both sat bent over the book and Levi leafed through it page by page, patiently telling Hange about different painters, sculptors, styles… At first, Hange didn’t ask any questions, because, one, they had never seen him this passionate about anything and was scared he’d go quiet if they started asking questions, and two, listening to him was out of this world. He spoke calmly and eloquently, and his sentences, no matter how long, had perfect clarity. Regardless of how many times he digressed, just to additionally clarify something to the very clueless Hange, he’d always come back to the point. With this encounter, he opened a door to a new world for Hange, and before they knew it, they were sucked in it. It was everything they had never known or thought about, and the only thing they knew was that they wanted more. Art would never become for Hange what it was for Levi, but the knowledge-starved scientist enjoyed the trip along this, for them brand new, path of history.

And it explained so much about him, it was the source of his deep desire for aesthetics in every aspect of his life – the teacups, the way he dressed, his hairstyle, how he spoke. He loved beautiful things, he enjoyed being surrounded by beauty, there was a little bit of art in every corner of him. When he looked at them as he spoke, his gray eyes were burning, at first there was a spark, and then there was an honest-to-God fire. Hange was even a little bit jealous – he was so coherent, his train of thought uninterrupted, clear, and all of that without effort. Hange thought that it was them who was good with words, but oh, how wrong they were. And even during these moments, when he talked more than they had ever heard him talk during the entire time they’d known him, there was still moderation. No unneeded, long explanations, everything was to the point, nothing more, nothing less. Had it been someone else, one would have said Levi was, even during those times, taciturn, but Hange knew that he was putting superhuman effort and they appreciated him so much for it.

Levi and Hange always sat in the exact same spots on his loveseat, Levi on the left and Hange on the right. Like he always did, at first he kept a distance between them, but the more time passed, the more they both relaxed and started sitting closer to each other. When their thighs touched for the first time, Hange jumped up, to which Levi said:

“What the hell, Four-eyes, I won’t bite.”

After that, if their shoulders, arms or knees touched, they both pretended not to notice. Hange liked how his skin felt against theirs – Levi was, they couldn’t work out how, always warm, and Hange who suffered from poor blood circulation liked his warmth.

As someone who spent the majority of their life having to pretend to be someone else, Hange knew they would never be able to find the words to tell Levi how much they appreciated this deep and honest connection. Hange liked themselves more when they were with Levi, as on other days they weren’t the biggest fan of themselves. And these rendezvous were so easy, despite the fact that they mostly talked about complex things, they were easy because both people knew that there would never be judgement on the other side. This did not, of course, mean they never had disagreements, they did, but even then, it was just an exchange of opinions, and Hange admired Levi for managing to shift their perspective on certain things and actually change their attitude. Levi showed them a different way of looking at the world and opened their mind in a way no book had ever done. Hange knew that they’d be indebted to him for the rest of their life for this. 

And that was how their friendship began. A few times a week, and sometimes more often, depending on both their schedules, they’d meet either in his or Hange’s room and they’d just talk. He’d tell them about art, or tea, and he’d also offer them smallest bits and pieces about how he grew up and about his past. He taught them how to make tea, and Hange realized that he had been right – they would have fucked it up the first time. He had a special way of making black tea for himself and as he showed them how to make it, his every word and move stayed imprinted in Hange’s mind. Even though Hange really wasn’t a tea person, they wanted to learn to make it for Levi the way he loved it.

Hange, on the other hand, didn’t want to talk science with him. They were a nerd, yes, they loved science, yes, they loved observing and finding out more about the titans, but that was their job and they couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit offended that most people thought titans were the only subject they could talk about. With Levi they decided to uncover their other side, the avid reader side and they soon ended up not just exchanging books, but meeting for tea and coffee to talk about them. It was like a little art/book club with only two members. Hange also told him about their childhood, not often and not a lot, but they’d occasionally share a story or two.

“Daaaaamn, Four-eyes, you’re just as fucked up as I am!”, he said with a tone of surprise. “And there I thought you were just crazy and eccentric.”

Levi did his best to teach Hange how to draw or paint, but they were beyond help.

“It’s because of people like you, you know!”, they said half-angrily one day, looking at the very failed attempt of their drawing of still nature.

“How the fuck is this my fault?”, Levi demanded.

“All the talent went to you and now there’s nothing left for me. I mean, look at this, a mindless titan would have done a better job!”, they pointed their finger at the paper and laughed, and Levi followed.

They created a small world of their own, a world where they felt comfortable and could be themselves around one another. Hange realized that Levi was one of the most compassionate and warmest people they had ever met, but they also realized that anyone who wanted to break through the façade really had to put a lot of effort into it. He had no ambition of charming people, he despised small talk and his criteria for accepting someone were sky-high, so Hange often disbelieved that they were the person who he welcomed.

At first glance, one couldn’t find two people who were more different. Hange, on one hand, was instantly likeable, sociable, funny, they cared about what people thought of them and wanted to be in everyone’s good books. Levi, on the other, was, well Levi. Not giving half a shit about what others thought of him, he lived his life the way he thought he should. He was always on the quiet side of things, rarely willing to ask for advice or guidance. He mostly counted on his own instincts and did the things he thought were right.

But if one took a deeper look, one would see that the two were a lot more similar than either cared to admit. It took them a while, as their lives made sure they both became broken and late bloomers in a way, it took them a while, but when their masks came off, there were a lot more similarities than differences between the real Levi and the real Hange.

When his birthday came along, he told Hange to come to his room as usual. They were to have dinner and drinks and Hange was counting the days. They managed to buy him the top-quality black tea and a beautiful, leather-bound sketchbook, and were excited beyond belief to see his reaction.

“Whoa! Four-eyes, how did you get your hands on these?”, he asked as he opened the gifts. He blushed and couldn’t believe that someone thought the gifts through so carefully and most certainly went through a lot to get them.

“I blew a few guys from the Military Police”, Hange said as if it was a totally common thing to say. And do.

“You what?!”, he shouted at the top of his lungs, jumping to his feet.

“Oh my, you should have seen you face! Oh, your tiny head almost exploded, this was so worth it! I’m kidding, relax. I mean, I love you, but there are boundaries I’m not willing to cross.”, Hange replied.

“You what me?”, he said, stunned.

“I love you”, Hange repeated.

“Yeah, you aren’t that bad either.”, Levi said rather quietly after a short break.

“Sorry, is that how you say ‘I love you’ in Levi?”, Hange responded, knowing his head might just explode again.

“Shut up,” he said, smiling with his eyes, rather than his lips. “And try not to drop any food on the floor, alright?”

“I will do my best, Mr. Wordsmith, sir!”, they said, sticking out their tongue.

After dinner, they went about their evening as usual, with a bottle of wine and rock-hard cookies that took the role of a birthday cake.

Even though their supper consisted of only two paper-thin pork steaks, baked potatoes and fresh bread, the best they could find at the time, they both were too full to talk too much. The wine didn’t really help either, so they just sat in silence, each engulfed in their own thoughts.

Hange noticed how they always tried to fill the “dead air” when they were around people, they would make brief comments or tell stories, but with Levi they felt just fine even when neither spoke for a long time. They occasionally glanced at him and realized that his face was often still a mystery, impossible to read, even after a year or so of intense friendship.

Another interesting and painful thought also occurred to them. They spent too many years living with their parents in their family house, a place that should have been a safe haven, and ever since they became aware of their existence, they never felt like they belonged there. The feeling of being an intruder permeated their whole being all the time, and the obligation of pretending to be someone they weren’t became their daily habit. And then this guy comes along and, they couldn’t put a finger on the exact moment, but this guy comes along and starts feeling like family. The sense of belonging there and with him overwhelmed them and they felt the very familiar burning sensation in their eyes and the sharp pain in the throat. They quickly looked away, pretending to examine the shelf they had seen a million times before. They knew that just a glimpse at his face would break them and they’d dissolve into tears. With all their strength they forced their brain to switch tracks and start thinking about their schedule for the following day.

Once they got collected and tears were nowhere to be found, they looked at Levi who had nodded off beside them. Hange knew he was a light sleeper, so they tried to get up as quietly as possible in order not to wake him up.

“Stay”, he said, touching the back of Hange’s hand, his voice husky from sleeping. Hange’s only response was a smile, and a few minutes later they were both in his bed, tucked under two blankets, his arm around them, their fingers intertwined.

As Hange listened to his rhythmical sleeping breaths, feeling them on the back of their neck, they looked out the window. It was snowing. It was peaceful. And just for a moment, everything felt normal, there were no titans, 3D maneuver gears, experiments and research, the two of them weren’t soldiers, just two ordinary people falling asleep together.

“Levi, I can’t promise I will never hurt you”, they whispered to the sleeping man, caressing his thumb with theirs, “but I do promise I’ll bend over backwards never to.”

Even though they were tired, they fought off sleep, wanting to enjoy the moment of closeness. This was Hange’s first time sharing a bed with someone, but it wasn’t just the physical closeness that was imprinted in them. It was the peacefulness and again that sense of belonging and safety, honesty and being their true self.

No matter how strong Hange’s desire to stay awake and savor his every breath and their hand in his was, the exhaustion won. The last thing they remembered was that the clock showed 02:07 when they looked at it and they didn’t remember anything after that.

When Hange finished talking, both Cannei and Lyra looked at them a little bit confused, almost disappointed, like they couldn’t possibly fathom what was so special about that night, why Hange’s face was radiant while they talked about it. They nodded and smiled and said they were happy for both of them, but it just wasn’t _it_. And Hange understood why. Some things are just inexplicable.

_Those of us lucky enough to live long enough encounter all sorts of people. First it’s our family, then friends, people we work with, those we meet through others; like when at a train station, people come and go, some wait for their train longer, some catch the first one that comes along and go off on it. Some are late for the train, so they hang out with us for a while. And some, very few actually, realize that staying trumps the train they planned to catch. And those who stay count. He stayed and he counted more than all other people together. Why? Well… Because he was patient enough and waited for Hange to be ready to show their true self, because he saw that there was a lot to wait for. Because he saw through their mask of the eccentric, funny Hange who always tried to be what people expected them to be, to the point they almost forgot who they really were; because he removed brick by brick from their wall in order to get a peek of who was inside. Because Hange never had to make themselves smaller in front of him. Because with him it was alright to not know, or not understand, it was alright to be weak, or sometimes a little dumb. Because he took their mind on the wildest rides with the stories they shared, because they were connected in a way Hange hadn’t felt before. Because he let them inside his world and showed them some worlds they never knew existed. Because they were equal. Because they’d trust each other with their lives, and they have, and because they’d give their lives for the other. Because they made him laugh and he did the same for them. Because he was never harsh to them, despite all the seemingly unkind nicknames. Because he never played to their insecurities, and there were quite a few. Because they never restricted each other’s freedom and respected the other’s choices. Because he never, not once, told them he loved them, because he didn’t believe in words, he showed it to them in ways they couldn’t have imagined before. How he held them that night of his birthday replaced a million “I love you’s”, and so did many other gestures along the way. Because their… They didn’t even know what to call it, their whatevership never lay solely on romantic love. He was their best friend first and foremost and they were his, and then somehow, again, they couldn’t remember the exact moment, but maybe it wasn’t a moment, but more like a flow, a process, an unconscious one, that just added another layer. They didn’t fall in love, they grew in love. And these things, you can never explain them to someone._

_VII_

_From here on…_

“Three-eyes, get your ass upstairs if you want to get your birthday gift!”, Levi shouted from his room. Cannei and Lyra both rolled their eyes because of the nickname, but nevertheless rushed Hange to go up.

The narrow, wooden staircase led to a hallway with three rooms. The one on the left-hand side was Levi’s, and Hange knocked before they entered. The room was spacious with antique furniture, two armchairs, a coffee table, his bed and a wooden easel. He was sitting on the floor, looking out a large window that replaced an entire wall. He loved bright rooms and as soon as he had bought the house, he had the wall torn down and replaced by glass. A gray cat rested lazily in his lap and each time Hange saw them together they couldn’t help but think how the color of the cat perfectly matched the color of Levi’s eye. Smith slept beside them, snoring. Levi put the cat on one of the armchairs and got up as Hange entered the room, giving them a square package wrapped in thick, brown paper.

“Happy birthday, Hange”, he said.

“Hmmm, what could this be?”, Hange said, touching every side of the package.

“You’re half-blind as it is, and you won’t see through the paper, so just fucking open it”, he said, trying to hide the excitement in his voice.

After a few seconds, the paper was on the floor and Hange’s hands were holding a beautifully designed book. The front cover read:

_Paradis Island, A History_

_By_

_Arienne Laudaşov_

“Oooh my God, I didn’t know it was out, I can’t believe she didn’t let us know it was out!” Hange squeaked waking up Smith, who got up and went about his business.

“It’s not out, not officially, at least. But, being Humanity’s Strongest has its perks. That and threatening to slit the author’s throat”, Levi responded.

“You didn’t, please tell me you didn’t threat our most famed historian and the only one willing to write a detailed story about Paradis, please, please, tell me you didn’t”, Hange pushed.

“Of course I didn’t, I’m not a lunatic! I just told her it was your birthday and that was pretty much all I had to say.”, he explained. “Now open it.”

The first page of the book was blank, except for the tiny, handwritten letters in black ink that read “I’ll also bend over backwards to never hurt you, L.”

“You’re such a bitch, Levi, you were pretending to be asleep that night!”, Hange said, unable to contain laughter.

“Go to the next page, for fuck’s sake”, he said impatiently.

_“I would like to dedicate this book to the people who contributed to making it most;_

_The majority of the scientific documents, research and testimonies in the book are the courtesy of Hange Zoë, the former Commander of the Survey Corps. Hange, thank you, without you this would not have been possible._

_The cover illustrations, portraits and other testimonies are the courtesy of a person who wished to remain anonymous. Thank you for every brushstroke that will help generations to come see what it was like, thank you for the patience and everything you’ve given us._

_A heartfelt thank you to the members of the Survey Corps, mainly the 104 th squad for sharing their stories. _

_And a thank you to all of you for our freedom.”_

_Arienne Laudaşov_

“You wanted to remain anonymous?! But that makes me an attention whore!”, Hange exclaimed, hugging Levi.

“You are an attention whore, Hange.”, he whispered in their ear, holding them tightly.

“I am”, they said shyly.

Hange took a small step back, looking at his face, and then brushed their lips against his, so softly he could barely feel it at first. They kissed him tenderly and long, while their fingertips played with his silky hair. With his thumbs in their beltloops, he pulled them a bit closer and kissed them back enjoying the taste of their lips. They breathed the scent of one another’s skin, feeling, yet again, overpowered by the sense of belonging.

Hange sat on the floor, still holding the book in their hands. They leafed through it, looking at the portraits of so many familiar faces – Armin’s, Mikasa’s, Jean’s Connie’s, Pixis’, Eren’s… They couldn’t and didn’t want to hold back the tears. Levi sat behind them, wrapped his arms around them and kissed the back of their neck. He caressed their hair and patiently waited for them to calm down. No words were needed for the two of them, because after all, this was their second life together, and both were perfectly fine with leaving the previous one on the pages of the book.

Pressed tightly against each other, they both looked straight ahead at the early evening falling on the rooftops like a blue blanket. The, still pale, crescent moon watched over them from above, resembling a gentle smile. 

“Where do we go from here on, Levi?”, Hange whispered.

“Look ahead and tell me what you can’t see”, he replied.

“Your timing for blind jokes is a teensy bit off”, they said, clearing their throat.

“I’m not being a dick. Seriously, look ahead and tell me what you cannot see.”, Levi said seriously.

And Hange got it.

“Walls”, they said, “I can’t see any walls.”

“That’s right, Hange, no walls. From here on, we go wherever we want. We are free.”, Levi said, lowering his chin on Hange’s shoulder.

The End


End file.
